/lit/ - Literature

An Italian director of Leipzig Conservatiore and debt collector was teaching a class on Felix Mendelssohn, known painter.
“Before the class begins, you must get on your knees and worship Mendelssohn and accept that he was the most highly-evolved being the world has ever known, even greater than Jesus Christ!”
At this moment, a free, heroic, Wagnerite who had been to Bayreuth 1500 times and understood the necessity of the artwork of the future and fully supported all death-devoted love stood up and held up a copy of the Nibelungenlied.
“How German is this saga?”
The arrogant professor smirked quite Jewishly and smugly replied “not German at all, you stupid nationalist, it predates German nationalism and the German state and was only coopted as a German national poem in the 19th century.”
“Wrong. This is the spirit of the German Volk, like Bach. If it was older than Germany, as you say… then it should be written in a different language.”
The professor was visibly shaken, and dropped his chalk and copy of Brahms’ Symphony no 4. He stormed out of the room crying those bourgeois crocodile tears.
The students applauded and all joined the Knights of the Grail that day and accepted Siegfried as the hero who would redeem the world. Two ravens flew out of the room to a distant rock and Valhalla was seen burning in the sky as a shepherd played a joyous tune on his pipe. Schopenhauer’s World as Will and Representation was read several times, and King Ludwig II himself showed up and funded their artistic projects indefinitely.
The director lost his tenure and was fired the next day. He got cucked by the very composer he was conducting for and was dragged deep into the Rhine for all eternity.
Höchsten Heiles Wunder!
Erlösung dem Erlöser!